Iced

by Diane Adams

  Table of Contents

  Iced

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Iced

  I dropped my briefcase as soon as I got in the door, and my hands went immediately to loosen my tie; I couldn’t wait to get the damn thing off my neck. I kicked the door shut behind me, and by the time I got to the couch I was naked from the waist up, my clothes a breadcrumb trail marking the path I’d taken. I toed off my shoes and flipped the switch on the fan. The sweltering air of the apartment stirred slightly as the blades began to turn and even that small hint of fresher air was a relief.

  My fingers made swift work of unfastening my belt and in moments I was stripped to my boxers and socks. With a sigh, I dropped down to the couch and pulled my socks off one after the other. Finally, as naked as I could safely get in the living room of a shared apartment, I sprawled out on the couch. My arms stretched along the back, legs spread wide, I sighed with exhaustion and let my head fall back as the fan blew the faux cool air over my sweaty skin. The idea of global warming had made me laugh all winter as Colorado Springs had faced one of the coldest, snowiest winters in recent history. Now it was hard to believe that it had still been snowing just a couple of weeks ago. With temperatures climbing into the 90s just midway through May, it was much easier to believe in global warming… or at least Colorado warming. I thought there was a good chance I was going to die from the heat before the end of June, which was when the apartment manager would turn on the air conditioning.

  Maybe I should move back South where they brilliantly had AC all year long. Behind my closed lids, visions of torturously humid 100º days that sometimes started in April and lasted well into fall made me frown. I guessed I’d just stick it out. I’d survive somehow, if melting into a puddle of Taylor goo counted as surviving.

  As the fan moved enough air to restore some semblance of brain function, I realized my dog hadn’t come to meet me. Usually the three-year-old Lhasa Poo was under my feet as soon as the door opened, but I had made it all the way to the sofa without tripping over him once. Concerned, I sat up and looked around but saw him right away, lying on the cool tile under one of the chairs at the bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. Nicky was staring at me, tongue lolling, but made no attempt to come and say hello. The tile looked cool but the thought of wearing a thick fur coat in that heat made me groan. He sighed with apparent agreement and laid his head back between his paws. I couldn’t argue. It was too hot to move, for any reason. I’d make an appointment to get his hair cut; it was the least I could do. I’d do it as soon as I could find the energy to retrieve the phone from my pants.

  As if thinking about it brought it to life, the stupid thing started to ring. I listened to it for a second. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer it. That ring was Adam, and even though I wanted to talk to him, if he was calling it meant sex. Sex meant body contact and even more heat. I wasn’t sure there was sex good enough to suffer that much for, but I wouldn’t mind having some company. I’d broken up with my boyfriend, Jake, a month or so ago. It hadn’t been anything horrible. The fact was I liked the guy a lot, but my conscience got the best of me. He was too young to drag into a complicated three way relationship, especially one where he was not the center of attraction. The time I’d spent shared between Jake and Z had been great, but good sense had won out as the two of them had become increasingly hostile toward one another. Unfortunately my break-up with Jake had corresponded with Z hooking up with his boobs-of-the-month, and that made for a lot of long lonely nights.

  Adam and I had run into one another at the store a few weeks ago. We’d dated for a while last year before going our separate ways. He wasn’t about the straight and narrow of a defined relationship, which was the main thing that had led to our parting ways the last time. Now I wasn’t looking for anything well defined either. I didn’t know where things might go, or not go, with Z, and I was still a little heart-sore over hurting Jake. I didn’t want serious, and Adam’s free thinking, fluid way of living his life was perfect. We’d hooked up several times recently and he was just as much fun, and just as hot, as I remembered. At six feet tall, with close-cropped curly brown hair, dark eyes, and a body well developed from frequent gym visits, he was a walking wet dream. Add his naturally optimistic nature to the mix and he was a pleasant person to have around; not a bad thing at all for someone as perpetually moody as I am.

  My desire for company won out over my need to pretend I was cooling off. The truth was the sluggish 90º temp wasn’t affected very much by the frantic whirring of the electric fan. I leaned over and snagged the phone just before it reached the end of the song. My practiced thumb hit the talk button.

  “Yeah?” I said, turning on the speaker phone. I dropped it on my lap and laid my head back against the couch.

  “Thought I’d come by,” Adam said. Just the sound of his voice made my dick demand a vote. I frowned. Heat. Sex was heat.

  “It’s hot,” I whined. Adam laughed. He almost always laughed when I whined. I guessed it was good for me, but mostly it seemed annoying.

  “Of course it’s hot, you’re there,” he teased in his best sultry voice, which was pretty damn good. Adam was something when it came to phone sex. More heat curled in my belly, which was not good at all.

  “No, no, no—too hot.” My protest was weak; it was hard to sound convincing when your dick wanted to be included in the conversation. I shifted position on the sofa, seeking a cooler spot and giving thanks to the furniture gods that it was covered in cloth and not leather. Adam laughed again. Jerk.

  “Never too hot,” he said. “I’ll be there in a bit.” And the phone went dead. I cracked an eye to look at it. Adam was coming. Things were going to get a whole lot hotter. Maybe if I took a cold shower... but not even the thought of cold water streaming over my steamy flesh got me to move off the couch. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable knock on the door.

  I was in a heat induced stupor by the time the knock came. “Come in,” I yelled without moving. The door opened and closed but I was dozing again and couldn’t be bothered by little things like opening my eyes to say hello.

  “Holy crap,” Adam muttered from somewhere near the front door. He hadn’t come the rest of the way in, so I opened my eyes to see what he was doing over there. Turned out he was staring—at me. I got a brief vision of how I must look to him, spread eagle on the couch, skin glistening with sweat. My smile should have been smug; instead it was just grateful that I looked hotter than my sweaty rumpled self felt. His eyes were hot and he kept them fixed on me as he walked across the room to the kitchen. I started to get up but he waved me back down.

  “Stay there,” he said. “This won’t take a minute.” I took him at his word and let my eyes close, listening to him messing around in the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed, water ran, and I dozed off again listening to him talk to Nicky. Back when we were going out the first time, he’d bought a puppy just like Nicky. I’d thought he was in love with me and the puppy was an attempt to give us something in common; turned out he’d just wanted a puppy. The memory wasn’t hurtful. I’d worried for a long time that he was more involved than I was because of that little misunderstanding. It was weird that in the end it was the other way around. Ah well, no harm, no foul. We’d both emerged from our last involvement mostly unscathed; it gave us very little baggage to worry about this time around.

  “Where’s Lannie?” I asked about his dog in a lame effort to show interest in something besides the tepid air blown at me by the fan. Adam was still talking to Nicky. It sounded like he was taking him to the bedroom. I was almost curious enough to sit up and look, but not quite.

  “Lannie didn’t want to move,” he said, coming back into the living room. He paused beside the couch and I
cracked an eye to see him staring down at me. “So I left her there.” He was stripped to his boxers. Silk. Gray-on-gray stripes. Very, very short boxers. Tented by his dick. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the heat curled in my gut and the throb of my cock inside my less spectacular, but much cooler, cotton boxers. Guitar Hero was just as hot as stupid gray stripes.

  “Too hot,” I said, refusing to give in to the urge to look at him again. I wanted to bury my fingers in his curls and urge him to do naughty things to me with his mouth. My bottom lip jutted out. I was frowning, not pouting. “Way too hot.” If I looked at him I was finished. The idea of our sweaty bodies rubbing together and making the room hotter than ever made me want to cry. It made me want to say the hell with it and pull him down on top of me. I hated decisions. Adam took this one out of my hands. He was pushy like that. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I opened my eyes, since glares are not very effective with them closed. The expression on his face aborted the glare before it ever got started. His eyes raked over my body, and when they met mine once more they were dark with the heat I thought I didn’t want, but found I had no will to resist.

  “Come with me,” he said, and he led me into the kitchen. I followed behind him, my fingers tangled with his and my eyes happy to stare at his wide shoulders, narrow hips and very nice ass. He might not have the body of a Greek god but it was good enough to keep my libido stirred up despite the ungodly heat. We came to a stop in front of the refrigerator. On the floor in front of the sink was a huge puddle of water. It took about five seconds for my OCD to kick in and I reached for the drawer with the kitchen towels. Adam laughed and grabbed my hand back. “Not yet,” he said. He reached for my shorts and slid them off my hips. They fell to my ankles and I stepped out of them. “Now lie down, on your stomach.” I looked at him and then down at the water glistening on the tile. It looked… cool, but the idea made me feel stupid and I balked.

  “Dude, what the fuck?” I asked, but typical of Adam, he didn’t offer an explanation. He prodded me.

  “Just do it,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared and left me standing naked in my kitchen, alone except for a puddle of water. I heard him lock the door and slide the chain. At least Z and boobs wouldn’t walk in on my kitchen wallow. I continued to stare at the water at my feet. A breeze wafted over my ankles and stirred the surface of the water. Adam had brought the fan and it hummed quietly, blowing air over the wet tile. He laid his hand on my shoulder and leaned close. His breath brushed my ear. “Now get down,” he said, and I found myself sinking first to my knees and then stretched out on my stomach in a thin layer of water that had gone from cool to cold with the added movement of the air from the fan. The chill sank into my pores; I sighed and laid my cheek in the water. I felt cool for the first time that day.

  Adam’s fancy gray-on-gray boxers dropped just at the edge of my line of sight and he knelt beside me on the tile. I couldn’t move enough to show interest. The cold water had dampened my earlier enthusiasm and things weren’t as insistent as they had been. I folded my hands under my head and lay there, letting the fan blow over my naked skin, the water giving enough relief that I was much cooler than I had been on the couch. Something icy touched my shoulder and I jerked. Adam chuckled and drew a line down my spine with an ice cube. I shuddered but didn’t stop him; the intense cold of the ice was a direct contrast to the sweaty heated flesh of my back. I shuddered and made a small sound of pleasure. The ice slid up my left side, over my ribs and shoulder blade to my neck. There he left the melting cube and began to trace my other side with another cube. He left that one to melt in the small of my back.

  The fan blew a steady stream of cool air over me, raising goose bumps on my skin where the ice had been. Adam’s deft fingers parted the cheeks of my ass and an ice cube found its way there. Trapped, it melted quickly and ice water ran in a slow stream down to my balls. They protested the intense cold, pulling up against my body, but Adam ignored my grunt of discomfort and another ice cube joined the first. This one he rubbed from the top of my ass to my balls, and when I hissed and tried to pull away he laughed and held me still with his free hand.

  “I thought you were hot,” he teased, but his voice was thick with desire and I knew that he wasn’t as unaffected by the sight of my naked body as he was trying to feign. He left the ice to melt and shifted my legs apart with his hands as he moved to kneel between them. Another ice cube; this one he pressed against the tightly clenched entrance to my body until the muscle began to relax, but as the cold penetrated me, it clenched back up, forcing out the chilly invader. I cursed and tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but the tile was slick, and Adam’s hands on my hips kept me where he wanted me. He parted my cheeks again but this time, instead of the icy invasion of frozen water, I felt the hot swipe of his tongue, the heat of it exaggerated by the chill of my skin. The shock it sent through me made me buck under him and cry out, but his fingers dug hard into my ass and his face pushed against me. I could feel the heat of his breath and the hot wet play of his tongue.

  My balls forgot the cold and began to tighten for a completely different reason. My cock swelled and slid through the cool water under my body against the hard tile. I gasped and pressed back against him, silently begging for more. Lifting my hips even that small amount let the air of the fan reach the water under me and it chilled again. My dick protested, jerking up against the comparative warmth of my belly, but it didn’t shrink back down. The thrust of Adam’s tongue in my ass made sure of that. He didn’t always like to use his mouth on personal parts of the body, but when he got in the mood, it was enough to kill a person. He grabbed some more ice and rubbed my back down with it while he rimmed me, his tongue pushing inside and withdrawing as he nibbled and licked.

  My body couldn’t decide if it wanted to get away from the harsh cold of the ice cubes or get closer to Adam. The result was that I groaned and moaned and thrashed indecisively under him. And then his mouth was on the small of my back and from there his tongue traced its way up my spine. When he covered me with his body I was cool enough that the heat of his skin against mine was heavenly. He actually hissed and pulled back from the chill of my skin before he sighed and let his weight down on me. He mouthed my shoulders and bit the back of my neck. I felt the bruise bloom but didn’t protest. He kissed my ear and traced it with the tip of his tongue.

  “Turn over,” he whispered. His breath was hot and I shivered under him when heat curled at the base of my spine. I didn’t want to turn over. I could feel the hard length of his cock against me, and I wanted it in my ass. He read my mind, or maybe it was the way I lifted my butt, rubbing it against him. Mind or body language, he wasn’t going to give me what I wanted. “Not yet, turn over.” He lifted himself off me and watched as I turned over. Doing so was neither easy nor graceful with him kneeling between my legs. Finally I was on my back, lying in the water and feeling it soak my hair. I folded my hands behind my head and stared at him through my lashes. His hands rested on my bent knees and he bit his lip as he looked down at me, his expression hungry.

  I was focused on his face when I should have been watching his hands. When one curled around my cock, it held an ice cube between his palm and my dick. The effect was electrifying and I shouted, coming up to my elbows in an attempt to get away from him. He just grinned, kept his grip on my dick and slid the ice up and down it. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to turn it into a Popsicle or get me off. When his mouth closed on the head of my cock, surprise—more ice. There was cold everywhere. His hands seemed to be as chilled as the ice cubes, but his mouth had hidden pockets of surprising warmth that somehow remained untouched by the ice melting there.

  His tongue swirled around my dick in a mind-numbing contrast of hot and cold. His hand wrapped around the base as he slid his mouth down the length of my dick as far as he could. Giving head wasn’t Adam’s best thing; the truth was he really didn’t like to do it much. But he knew that getting sucked was my favorite
, and so every so often he gave up fucking (which was very much his best thing) to blow me. When he did, the fact that he was doing it for me despite how he felt intensified the excitement. There was something about his dark head bent over my lap and his expressive mouth wrapped around my dick that sent lust flaming through me. This time ice had no power over the heat that engulfed me.

  Adam’s hand moved with a steady rhythm, following his mouth up and down my shaft. The ice was long gone; there was nothing left but wet heat and friction. He was focused completely on my cock. His hand twisted and his cheeks hollowed, his tongue cupped the underside of my shaft and dipped into the slit when he had his lips wrapped around the head. His fist around my dick was the only thing keeping me from slamming the entire length down his throat as I bucked under him. I tried to stay up on my elbows to watch but the more intense it got, the closer he pushed me toward my orgasm, the less strength I had for anything except the energy collecting in my balls and the base of my spine. It curled my toes and I dropped back onto the floor. I grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth off my dick just before I came. Instead of filling his mouth, I shot all over his face. He jerked away but his hand never stopped moving, pulling every bit of come from me before he slowed the pace and began to ease me down. He reached over to grab my boxers and used them to wipe his face.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, a bit sheepish and thoroughly hoarse from yelling so much. He cleaned out an ear and grinned at me.